Guedelon
by saragillie
Summary: Fluff happens, even in France!


"Bones, this is fantastic!" Special Agent Seeley Booth said, craning his neck to see everything and not sure which way to look first.

Forensic Anthropologist Temperance Brennan, nicknamed Bones, looked at her partner and wondered how he could go from grumbling about the lack of proper signs to childlike wonder in the same five minutes.

"That's why I suggested coming to Guedelon. I thought you'd enjoy seeing a castle under construction. They try to make everything they need to for the castle on site."

"Yeah, well, your idea of fun and my idea of fun are a little different, so…"

"Booth, I've known you for a long time. I think by now I know what you like and don't like."

He rolled his eyes. "Let's see, three months ago there was that restaurant you were sure I'd like, and the month before that, tickets to the bowling tournament. Bowling's only fun when you're doing it! And last Christmas…"

"I get the point," she said in a sharp tone, cutting short his list. "Let's just enjoy this."

They wandered the site, formerly a quarry, stopping to see the various types of work being done. Most of it was manual, since the castle was being built with 13th century techniques.

At the rope-maker's, Booth assisted during part of the demonstration, Brennan quietly translating the instructions from French into English. At one end of the wooden rope jack, the worker rotated four hooks looped with rope. With each turn, the four separate strands twisted into a single large rope. At the other end, her partner monitored the slow, steady movement of a second wooden structure which anchored the opposite end of the smaller strands. Ten minutes later, the rope was finished.

After spending several minutes watching the blacksmith forge nails and explaining the different types of anvils, they moved to the partially completed castle. The wall surrounding the courtyard was completed to ground level, but the keep and the back wall were finished to the top of the first story. Windows minus glass were being set into the second story, the white stone contrasting with the reddish tint of the locally quarried stone.

An hour later they had seen the farm, a lumber demonstration and watched the making of tiles, baskets, and yarn. Booth's hand fell to its normal place at the small of her back as they followed the path back toward the castle. When they were standing directly in front of the castle, he snaked his arm further around her waist. Torn between protesting and enjoying the feeling, she was surprised when he spun them around and rested his head next to hers.

"Booth?"

He whipped the camera out of his pocket and held it at arms length.

"Smile."

He snapped the picture, then glanced at the screen. He'd cut off the top of his head.

"Try again."

After ten tries, she was giggling and he'd finally gotten a good picture.

"It's good to see you laugh, Bones," he commented, tilting his head to look down at her.

"There hasn't been a lot to laugh about this trip, has there?"

He tightened his arm around her waist, thinking just how wrong her book tour had gone. Her latest book had hit the best-seller list less than a week after it was released. She had been asked to assist in the identification of several sets of remains. Most of her fans were enthusiastic, but a small number had gone overboard.

After one fan–turned-stalker had disrupted several events and practically assaulted her, Cullen had given him orders to protect his partner, and Booth was on the next flight to Minnesota. The tour, concluded by a week in Western Europe, had finished that morning with a book signing in Paris.

Although things had been quiet in Europe, the prior issues had put Booth on edge and they both knew it.

"It's nice to relax, isn't it?"

She nodded her head against his shoulder. At the moment she felt very relaxed. She hated doing promotion for her books and the biggest part of that was over. Now she could get back to her normal life.

They stood that way, his arm around her waist, her leaning into him slightly, for another few moments. Then he dropped a soft kiss on her forehead as if it was an everyday event and sighed.

"We'd better drive back before it gets too late. We still need to pack before the flight tomorrow."

She grimaced at the thought of another couple hours of listening to him complain about the roads, the signs and French drivers, but moved in the direction of the exit.

Immediately, she missed the warmth of his body. She zipped her light jacket, trying to keep out the cool fingers of the breeze.

As they walked to the car, her thoughts buzzed around the kiss like bees around a hive, wondering what it meant. Finally she decided to just let it go. She wasn't sure she was ready for the answer and the comfortable feeling between them was too good to disturb with questions.

Even the frustration of French roads and her partner's moaning about them couldn't drive the feeling away. The castle had been excellent, but his enjoyment made the day the best one she'd had in the past few months.


End file.
